


Pull Out My Wings and Call Me a Deadman

by aslaug



Series: Stjernestøv [2]
Category: God of War (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aslaug/pseuds/aslaug
Summary: In which nothing makes sense, bad things never happen and everyone's (sort of) friends with each other.
Relationships: Atreus & Mimir (God of War)
Series: Stjernestøv [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060637
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	Pull Out My Wings and Call Me a Deadman

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not sure why nobody stopped me from writing this.

Atreus is halfway to the top. He knows he can make it this time. The surface under his hands and feet is almost perfectly smooth and still a bit slippery after the morning rain, making it hard to go for a firm grip. He scans the area above his head for a suitable spot to make the next jump. There. A narrow ledge, perfect to cling on. Atreus jumps, but instead of reaching the ledge his butt hits the ground again. It doesn't hurt any less than the first eight times.

"Laddie," Mimir calls out to him from a flat rock where Atreus put him down, "if you feel like you absolutely necessarily _ must _ disobey your father, may I suggest using the stairs instead? A wise man once said: insanity is doing one thing repeatedly over and over again. This is where his wisdom waned but I'll be damned if the old bugger wasn't right about this one."

"That's just not fair," Atreus groans and props himself up on his elbows. "I climbed things so much higher and so much more dangerous. I bet father made Freya use her magic so that I couldn't get in through the window. But why would he do that? I don't get it."

"Well, if your question isn't rhetorical, I might indeed have an answer to that," Mimir says.

"Can you tell me?"

"You see, laddie, even if he did ask Freya to make it difficult for you, it could only be because he didn't want you to climb inside through the window."

"But that’s what I just said. Do you know  _ why _ ?"

"Because that's exactly what you're doing!" 

"Wow, thanks Mimir, that was not helpful at all," Atreus drops down on the ground again, frustrated.

Mimir laughs at him. "He just knows you all too well."

“I guess you’re right,” Atreus rolls on his belly, resting his chin on his fists. “But what are they doing there? Aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

Mimir hums. “The seeds of your curiosity are growing from the soil of desire to explore the unknown, fertilized by your father’s forbiddance. Don’t get me wrong, brother, but I’m pretty sure this is how a child’s mind works.”

“So you don’t care? What if right now they’re murdering each other in there?”

“Must be something worse than that if for once he ordered you to stay outside,” Mimir muses. “Alright, now I might be a little bit curious.”

Atreus grins and jumps to his feet. He picks up Mimir from the rock and attaches him to his hip, wrapping the worn out rope around his waist twice.

...Trice.

“I knew you’d want to be in! But we can’t just walk in through the door like that. Earlier, father said he got something for me. Can’t risk upsetting him before I know what it is.”

“Aren’t you a sly little fox? Well brother, I suggest you consider your options, because I’m not climbing up there,” Mimir warns him.

“Don’t worry Mimir, you’re not,” Atreus lands a couple of clumsy pets on top of the horned head and takes a step forward, facing the tortoise once again. “I am.”

“I knew you’d say that. Why did you have to prove me right? Oh boy. Oh son.”

Atreus comes closer and places his hand on the tortoise’s massive front leg. He looks up. “Sorry Chaurli, just one more time, alright? I hope you don’t mind.”

The tortoise only puffs at that, blowing a neatly collected heap of wet red leaves all around the garden. 

“Brother, listen, just- whatever happens up there, don’t fall on your back.”

“Have faith, head,” Atreus replies in the lowest deepest voice he can manage. 

“Riiiiiight. You know, it might be my least favourite thing to hear coming from your da, but you’ve just managed to bring it to a whole new level. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Watch me.”

Atreus puts his foot on top of Chaurli’s leg. He continues up the same way as before until he reaches the spot that he struggled with previously; a broad branch, hanging right above the window leading inside Freya’s house, is out of his reach. Every time he tried to make a jump for it he ended up down on the ground.

“So far so good,” Mimir encourages him. “Still alive. Well kinda.”

Atreus pauses to think. There is no way he can make it, especially with Mimir weighing him down some more.  _ Have faith _ , he repeats to himself. Atreus is about to go for it, when the branch leans down with a gentle creak. The tortoise shifts heavily underneath them. 

“Chaurli!” Atreus exclaims and immediately grabs onto the branch with both of his hands, sliding down swiftly on the narrow windowpane. “Look Mimir, we’ve made it. I don’t know if I should be thankful or angry Chaurli only helped now.”

“The noble beast must have taken pity on the helpless old head,” Mimir says with the air of relief.

Atreus perches on the windowpane, trying to get a good look inside through the window. He hears voices before he sees the speaker. Whoever it is is hidden behind father’s broad shoulders.

"Hey Mimir," Atreus says in a hushed whisper. "You think Freya has one of her illusions on? I don't think they can see us."

"That, or perhaps they just haven't noticed you yet. What do you see, lad?"

"Hmm, I can see father, Freya… Baldur. They're just sitting at the table."

"Fighting on the table?"

"Nah, doesn’t look like it."

"—and that's when she gives me the best head of my life! Hey Spartan, that your tadpole over there?"

And then father turns around. Atreus manages to catch a glimpse of Modi's amused face showing from behind father. The son of Thor is pointing his finger at him.

"Atreus?"

Atreus puts both of his hands against the glass…

...and topples forward. The window has no glass.

"Ouch," Mimir finally breaks the silence. "Man, don't I just hate being right lately."

"Atreus?" father says again, demandingly.

Still down on the floor, Atreus dares to glance at him. "It's raining outside," he offers with uncertainty.

"It is not," father replies.

"I was thirsty."

"You were not."

"Mimir told me he wanted to get inside!"

Father raises his eyebrows.

"He did not!" Mimir cuts in. "That was just low, brother."

"Well lookie lookie, if it isn't junior, climbing in here like a pesky little cockroach. I thought it was weird that you weren't around."

Atreus can't fight his mouth spreading into a grin. "Hey Brok."

"Ain't I glad to see you, kid," Brok says, positively beaming. "What took you so damn long? You know what, doesn't matter," the dwarf stretches out his arm, palm up, towards Sindri who is sitting across the table from him. "A hundred, brother."

Sindri shakes his head and reaches into his pocket. He's not wearing his armour. 

"See, that's exactly why you never bet on people playing by the rules. This loser here had faith in you being a good boy, and that cost him a hundred!" 

“Atreus?” father repeats his name for the third time. It’s unbelievable, Atreus thinks, how impossible it is to get him distracted.

“What do you want me to say?” Atreus demands. “You never leave me behind and now you do - of all times! - and... You knew I’d still get in anyway, didn’t you?”

“As soon as I gave you the order, it became your responsibility. Do not attempt to make it mine now.”

“Is he always such a bore?” it’s Magni. He’s here, too. “No wonder the kid is growing up such a brat.”

“I’m not a brat,” Atreus scrambles to his feet and stands next to Magni who’s sitting to Modi’s right. Even like this, with his back as straight as a bow string, Atreus still barely reaches Magni’s shoulder. “My name’s Atreus.”

“Well little birdie, what winds bring you in here?” Magni asks him coyly. Inside Freya’s house, on one of her chairs, he looks even bigger, as if devouring the entire space with his mere presence.

“He is leaving now,” father intercepts. 

“So soon?” Freya gets up from her seat and goes to fetch another chair. “Let your son stay, Kratos. It can’t be that bad, now can it?”

Father shoots her an unreadable look.

“Loosen up, Spartan,” Modi leans over the table and smacks father on the shoulder.  _ Whoa _ .  _ Dangerous move, _ Atreus thinks. Father, however, doesn’t even flinch.

“I am as loose as it is required.”

Atreus hops on the chair, glancing at Baldur who has been quiet all this time. Elbows splayed on the table, he’s staring pensively into his mug. He seems bored, Atreus thinks.

“It’s wounding me how quickly you forgot about your partner in crime,” Mimir calls out to him from behind. 

Atreus jumps to his feet and starts removing the rope from his waist. “Freya, can you get another chair for Mimir please?”

“I don’t need a chair. Why would I need a chair? Just—”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Freya is already putting another chair next to Atreus’ seat and Atreus places Mimir on it.

“You just keep being mean to me,” Mimir’s voice carries over from under the table.

“So what are you doing here?” Atreus asks father.

“Drinking,” father replies matter of factly.

“That’s it?” Atreus doesn’t believe it. “You let me drink with you once already, why try and keep me away now?”

“Because it is different.”

“Why? Because Magni and Modi are here too?”

“They are a bad influence on a child’s mind.”

“Your daddy’s saying you’re not enough of a man for the man talk,” Modi cuts in. “Is that so,  _ Atreus _ ? You’re not a man yet?”

Before Atreus has a chance to manage a retort, Magni barks out a laugh. “Just ‘cause he’s short and scrawny doesn’t mean anything. I mean, look at uncle! The two are almost of the same size."

"Hey uncle," Modi turns to face Baldur, knocking over one of the mugs with his elbow, "perhaps you should've stayed outside with the kid to avoid big men’s bad influence?”

“Your uncle is a formidable opponent,” Atreus hears father say. He has to look at him to make sure he’s not imagining it. “Do not sell him short because of how he looks.”

Atreus notices the twitch in the corner of Baldur’s mouth before he hides it in his mug, downing the drink in one quick gulp.

“And how are you saying I look, old man?” Baldur then asks father, his low raspy voice dripping with something Atreus thinks might be a provocation. 

“Breakable,” father replies almost instantly and downs his own drink.

Magni and Modi start hooting in lockstep with each other.

“You’re not wrong, you know. Thanks to junior,” Baldur nods at him, his eyes still locked on his mug. Then he looks up at father and smirks. “But it takes getting there first.”

“They’re gonna fight now, aren’t they?” Mimir’s voice reaches them from under the table. “I can’t see anything from down here, so can someone maybe—”

“Don’t you just hate it when a fly gets inside your house and starts buzzing at your ear?” Freya gets up from her seat hastily and crouches at a wooden chest next to the wall. She takes out a jug and another mug and places them on the table. “Now, nobody’s fighting anyone in my house. You run out of drink and get bored — you refill and keep drinking.”

“Am I getting one?” Mimir tries his luck.

“A fly doesn’t need a drink. Especially when it’s missing its body,” Freya retorts dismissively and fills Atreus’ mug with something. She smiles at him. “Go ahead, darling.”

Atreus glances at father who gives him a curt nod. He picks up the mug and gives the drink a tentative sniff; it smells like honey and fire and it shouldn’t be that bad, remembering how easy father and Baldur made it look. 

“I  _ am _ a man,” Atreus hears himself saying. He bottoms up; honey burns his throat with molten torrent of heat. The mug falls out of his hands and rolls under the table. Atreus coughs like his life suddenly depends on it.

“Look at that! Look at  _ that _ !” Modi cheers, and the two brothers clink their mugs, following Atreus’ example. “To the man!”

Atreus takes a moment to catch his breath and grins at the appraisal. It feels amazingly empowering to be acknowledged for once, even if it takes him burning his insides to ashes. 

He wants to do it again. 

Atreus leans sideways, almost toppling over, and tries to feel for his fallen mug.

“Over there, laddie,” Mimir says helpfully. “Under the table.”

“Yeah Mimir I—... I know, just—,” Atreus stands up.

...and immediately drops back down in his chair because suddenly the room is spinning and Magni splits into two Magnis and both of them are twice the regular size and they’re laughing at him now and he feels like it’s just too much to handle at once.

“Whoa, steady there, hunky-chunk,” Brok hurries to catch Atreus by his shoulders when the room starts leaning sideways. Atreus thinks that this is what it must have felt like to be inside Tyr’s temple that one time father flipped it over.

“What, you good with that?” Atreus distantly registers Brok talking to father. 

“You heard the boy. He is a man,” the drink must have played some silly trick on Atreus’ mind because he swears he can hear amusement in father’s voice. “Let him be, dwarf. Smart people learn from their own mistakes.”

Atreus feels his blood boiling, be it from Freya’s stupid brew or condescension in father’s voice. He blinks twice, thrice, and sees his mug, clutched in Magni’s massive fingers. The other Magni is holding the jug.

“Well, go ahead, Atreus. We almost believe you. Right, brother?” both Magnis merge into one Magni again as he nudges Modi and both of them chortle.

Atreus picks up the mug with his unsteady hands and takes in the people at the table; Thor’s sons, Brok, Sindri and Freya are all watching. Baldur isn’t even looking at him. And neither is father.

He doesn’t need  _ his _ approval anyway when he has the attention of almost everyone else. 

He can do it.

Half of the drink drips down his chin and under his tunic. Atreus slams the empty mug on the table and wipes his mouth. 

“Aahhh.”

Magni and Modi keep cheering and their mugs keep clinking and Atreus is going down in flames and still father wouldn't spare him a glance. He wants to throw the mug at him, to yell at him: _Look, I can handle that!_ _I am a man! See?_ But when he tries, his tongue doesn’t move; it’s just sitting idly in his mouth like fat wobbly jello.

"More," he manages to demand instead.

“Sweetie, I think you should slow down,” Freya tells him. “The night is still young, we don’t want you to leave us so soon. I’ll get you something to eat, alright?” she places her hand on his back, but Atreus can barely feel her touch. He pinches the skin on the back of his hand and it doesn’t even hurt. 

He’s…

...invincible.

Like Baldur used to be.

After Freya leaves to get him food, Atreus notices with the corner of his eye that Baldur slips away quietly from his chair and through the door, disappearing outside. Father stands up immediately, too. He starts towards the door when Freya catches his forearm, a bowl of steaming food in her other hand. Father leans down and she whispers something in his ear, then lets go. Father closes the door behind himself.

“What the fuck was that about?” Brok’s confused voice breaks the silence.

“Nothing of your concern,” Freya puts the bowl and the spoon on the table. “Eat and you’ll feel better, I promise.”

Atreus wants to tell her that he doesn’t need to feel better. He’s at the peak of his abilities. He wants to keep drinking, he wants the crowd to keep cheering, he wants everybody to watch him and see him and acknowledge how capable he is. He wants father to come back—

But the stew smells nice.

Atreus tries to pick up the spoon but it doesn’t end up in his hand, as if it’s not in the place where he sees it. Or maybe it’s moving. 

“The kid’s battered out of his mind,” he hears Brok laughing at him. They’re not supposed to  _ laugh _ . Atreus groans in frustration and drops his head on the table, by some miracle missing the bowl. Freya coaxes the spoon into his hand.

“Go on now,” she says and takes father’s seat next to him.

Atreus lifts his head and it feels almost as heavy as father’s axe. He stirs the stew with the spoon and takes a mouthful. The food is hot, but with every next spoon it goes down his stomach and gently quenches the fire that the drink has kindled within him. Once the bowl is empty, Atreus shoves it aside and wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic. He picks up the mug and stretches the arm towards Magni. 

“More.”

Freya yanks the mug out of his hand. “You’ll get more,” she leans down and whispers in his ear, “If it’s so important to you to impress them, you have to take it slow, otherwise you’ll pass out before you know it. Moderation is the key, dear. And those men won’t tell you that,” and then she looks up at everyone and smiles. “How about we play a game? Anybody knows fun games?”

“Why the fuck not,” Brok says, “There’s one I used to play with myself when I was workin’ alone, to keep mind sane and furnace burnin’, if ya’ll know what I mean.”

Freya nods at him to elaborate. 

“Well it’s called  _ Shag, marry, kill _ .”

Sindri, who has been quiet all this time, chokes on his drink. “I’m so sorry, Mistress. Never you mind him, please.”

“What’s shag?” Atreus asks.

“I’m pretty sure the dwarf said ‘hug’,” Freya explains. “Right, dwarf?”

“Yeah sure whatever. Let’s play the kiddie version.”

“Oh I like this one,” Modi joins in. “I’ll start. Okay so, Spartan, Freya,  _ obviously _ , and your little pet head over there.”

“Ah, someone remembers I’m still here!”

“...Aaaand the question goes to our little champion,” Modi beckons at Atreus.

Atreus lets himself think, fighting dizziness that’s clouding his mind, still. “So I’m guessing I should, uh… Oh wait, I think I get it,” he clears his throat. “I’d marry Freya, because she’s always been nice to me and if something happens I know that she’ll take care of me. I’d like to hug Mimir, I guess, but I don’t think I can? And I’d also try to kill father because he left again, but I know that there’s no way I can do it,” he stops to think for a moment and then continues. “So I guess I’d have to kill Mimir and hug father.”

_ Although he doesn’t deserve it right now. _

“Well, at least I’m included,” he hears Mimir mutter from his chair.

“Excellent choice!” Modi exclaims approvingly. “Who do you want to go next, little one?”

“Freya,” Atreus looks up and smiles.

“That’s an easy one,” Freya kicks back in her chair and crosses her arms on her chest. “I suppose I have no choice but to marry you back, dear. Which would leave me with hugging your father,” she gives Atreus a kind smile. Then she looks away with a grim expression. “Kill the head, obviously.”

“Aren’t you people a delightful company,” Mimir remarks bitterly.

“But you’re already dead anyway, so it’s not that big of a deal,” Atreus tells him back.

“Alright, I’ve had enough, I demand someone picks me up and carries me out of here. Preferably angrily slamming the door behind.”

“Mimir—,” Atreus starts.

“Not you!” Mimir cuts him off. “Anyone else? No? Come on, if you lot hate me so much, wouldn’tcha wanna be rid of me, eh?”

Atreus stands up and picks Mimir up in his hands.

“I said not you! Put me down and keep your distance, or I swear I’ll bite your finger!”

“We’ll go get some fresh air,” Atreus tells everyone and starts toward the door. When he leaves, he can hear Brok speaking, “Ain’t nobody gonna say anythin’ ‘bout the big guy storming out right after the little guy?”

“Learn to mind your own business, dwarf, or—”

Atreus closes the door behind himself. He walks down the stairs into the garden and notices father’s wide back, his figure leaning against the tree in the shadows of the dusk. Atreus can’t make out what he’s doing there and decides that he doesn’t care. He goes further into the garden and climbs up a short hill, where nobody can see him and where he can’t see father’s unconcerned attitude. He sits down in the grass and places Mimir next to himself. They’re quiet for a moment.

“Mimir?”

Silence.

“Mimir, I—”

“Don’t you just hate it when they shove a fly into your house against its will, put it in a place where it feels the most excluded and then talk about how much they’d love to kill the heck out of it, making it listen? Oh and make sure to pull out its wings first and then kindly inform it that, so what if it dies, it can’t fly anyway!”

Atreus isn’t sure what to say to that. This is not the first time he hurts his friends and each time it’s never easy to fix it.

“Don’t have anything to say, aye?”

“Mimir?”

“What.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, be—”

“...be better, I know, I know! Just, I really shouldn’t have said that. But I wanted to hug you at first, remember? It’s just that I didn’t know it’d be possible, I mean… It’s kinda not. But if it were, I’d really really like to do that. You’re a good friend.”

“Well lad, I… ah, shoot it, I’ve always been the quick one to let things go. Yeah, yeah, I’m not happy with it either, so wipe that grin off your face, I can still see you!”

“Mimir?”

“Aye, laddie?”

“You’re the best head I’ve ever had in my life.”

Atreus thinks that it must have done the trick, because Mimir roars with laughter and Atreus imagines he’d have been rolling in the grass had he still had his body. 

“I’m flattered, brother, don’t get me wrong, but I suggest you don’t look up to Modi and his way of giving away compliments. Respectfully.”

They stay on the hill for a bit longer, gazing at the setting sun. Further down, Chaurli plays with the leaves, his breath scattering them all around the garden, or maybe it’s just wind. When it starts drizzling, father finds them on the hill and takes them home. Atreus is surprised when father doesn’t sound angry or condescending anymore as he shows him something wrapped in a clean linen rug. When Atreus unwraps it, he’s surprised to find not a knife, not another piece of armor, not a weapon at all, but a richly looking book with pretty golden margins and nice red fabric binding. 

At night they sit down at the table and light a candle. This time there’s no drinking and no playing and no chattering, but only the sound of Mimir’s voice reading Atreus about the greatest of wonders of the worlds which Atreus never even knew existed. 

As Mimir keeps reading, Atreus keeps flipping the pages, and father just watches them quietly. 

And when a fly gets stranded inside the room, its panicked buzzing swallowing the sound of Mimir’s voice, Atreus catches it between his closed hands, comes to the window and sets it free.

He doesn’t see it but he can hear Mimir smile as he keeps reading.


End file.
